Sunday run

It’s been a quiet day. I had one thing in mind to actually do, which was have a run. The thought occurred to hit the road in the morning, but reluctantly getting up from bed to the sound of clattering roof tiles as pigeons greeted the day pushed any notion of physical exertion away. Yet, it has been about two weeks where every second day I’ve somehow managed to get to the gym. Except going to the gym today would of meant spending over an hour in bus ride time there and back, not to mention packing my kit bag and paying fare. So instead, I had an inkling of motivation and put on shorts, socks and t-shirt to go jogging. There was one rule, no rather two rules to obey on such an occasion. First to take it easy, allow myself to stop and walk where necessary and second was to spend longer running than I would at the gym. After a few stretching exercises I got some water and left by the front door.

Once I had closed the door I wondered if anyone I knew would see me. This was because a middle aged getting-fatter-man who one knows, is always worth a laugh. Fortunately I have few friends nowadays and only had to think about neighbours. As most of these are new and of multi cultural origin and still strangers to me, they wouldn’t be much of a problem unless they decided today was the day to talk to the fattish man who lives in the corner house. I was fortunate, none did. They were probably doing all day sessions at their respective religious establishments dancing, singing, and speaking in tongues. Although I must confess one tongue has been perfectly adequate for me.

The run, or rather fat-man-jog, walk, pant-like-about-to-have-a-asthma-attack event went as smoothly as it could. There was only one doggy threat, and he seemed quite happy chained to his steak although I hopped over his lead and flashed an enticing chicken-like-leg in his direction, he was having nothing of it. Maybe he thought there was too much fat on it and liked his meat a bit leaner. He was quite a nice dog as well, he was a young husky-like affair. Perhaps the heat of the day had taken a toll on him. But good as gold, he just sat and showed no interest. I was happy for him, just as I was happy for myself, not having to think about a tetanus injection. I saw families out walking, kids playing football and even another jogger, an older man who didn’t acknowledge me as we passed in opposite directions. Bastard, I panted quietly as I laboured an exhale. Obviously someone who doesn’t know the joggers rule, which is to always smile, wave or say “hi” to another jogger. Saying this, it did give me some impetus to move my little leggies a little faster, well, a little.

In getting home I then washed and sat down, to enjoy a quite moment as my brain chemistry kicks in with some of those buzzing chemicals which make you feel at peace. Oh running shoes, running shoes, bear my weight, last for another circuit, help me lift my knees when I need it most and never let your laces dangle so I fall over and land on my face, arse or nose. Yep, sometimes a little divine intervention is just what the personal trainer ordered.